


Discretion means learning when to stop

by nonyvole



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, But only loosely referenced, Canonical Character Death, Clint Needs a Hug, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Only for part of season one, Phil really has no clue, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Skye needs to stop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonyvole/pseuds/nonyvole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deep down, all Skye wants to do is protect her team.  Meeting the infamous Agents Barton and Romanoff only trigger those urges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon took a left turn at Albuquerque somewhere pre-Winter Soldier. Many shout outs to the cheerleaders and grammar-checkers.
> 
> Kudos to anybody who recognizes where some of Barton's backstory comes from...
> 
> Possible triggers: complex grief that has not resolved means some bad choices are made. Remember, don't drink and drive, kids. Rest of trigger warnings will come when it doesn't cause spoilers for the story.

There was something oddly soothing about the Hub, Coulson mused as he led his team through the chaos.  A strange synchronicity about it all, even though one could never predict what would happen.  “We’re heading over to Logistics for now.  Fitz, Simmons-” A break in the patterns had him narrowing his eyes slightly.  “Wait here.”

As the others nodded and clustered together, Coulson wound his way towards where the pattern breaks were leading to.  “Barton, Romanoff.”

“Coulson.”  Clint nodded then grinned.  “What brings you here?”

“Upgrades.  Come and meet my team?”

Natasha glanced at her watch.  “We have time.  Is this where they stashed you?  Or are you someplace else?”

“We have one of the old planes,” Coulson explained as he led the pair back to where Skye was starting to look disgruntled.  “Agents Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, you know Agent May-“

“Melinda!” Clint practically crowed.  “He got you out of desk duty!”

“Agent Grant Ward; Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, science; and Skye, civilian consultant.”

“Skye?”  Natasha glanced at Clint with a raised eyebrow.  “Rising Tide?”

“Only Skye I’ve heard of, so maybe?  She matches that picture that was sent around a couple months ago.  I don’t know if you got it – it was one of those ‘warning, cute but stupid’ things that gets sent around sometimes.  She had hacked Level Seven, Eight stuff.  General thought is that she’s just lacking tact and common sense.  I think she's immature.”  Clint’s face went still and he ignored Skye’s glare before grinning again.  “So, upgrades?  Thought Hand and Sitwell had you bunch in the doghouse after the last time you were here?  Nat and I saw the report on that little Georgian deal.”

“Some of us were.  Not all.”  May’s face was carefully still.  “Barton, Romanoff, why are you two here?  I thought you were normally closer to the Triskelion.”

“Mission briefings.”  Clint shrugged.  “You know the drill.  Where are we going this time, Nat?”

“Belarus.  We’re going in to cause our normal death and destruction.”  Natasha smirked slightly.  “He slept through the first briefing as usual.”

“Because I know what they are.  They’re always the same.  Go here, do this, maybe even do that if we've got the time.  As long as something like Budapest _never_ happens again.”  Clint rolled his eyes.  “It’s the later ones that I really care about.”  He lightly nudged Fitz with an elbow.  At the scientist’s startled glance, he leaned closer and whispered, “Like when they tell us if Nat has to dress up in that little black dress again.”  He reflexively ducked Natasha’s swing.  “Not here, Nat, they’ll get ideas!”

“Wait,” Skye waved off May and Grant’s gestures to stay quiet.  “What do you two _do_ here?  Barton?  Romanoff?  Were you two in New York?”

“When?”  Clint’s stare had Skye squirming slightly.  “I’ve been to New York a lot.  Even have an apartment there.  With the Chitauri?  I’m the only archer here I know of.  And what do we do here?  Classified _way_ above your level.”

“They’re high-level special agents, specializing in covert operations and assassinations.  Two of the best that SHIELD has, if not _the_ best.”  Ward finally spoke up.  “Ask around, a lot of the field agents want to _be_ them.”

“Hero worship?”  Skye turned to Ward with a raised eyebrow.  “Am I hearing _worship_ from the great Agent Ward?”

“No!  I-“

“Yes,” Coulson sighed.  “You are.  It’s not an unusual thing.”

“Look,” Clint had grabbed Natasha’s wrist and was staring at her watch.  “We were going to the Canteen to get some lunch.  Do you guys want to come too?  We really don’t have a lot of time before our next briefing, and I’m hungry.”

“We have all day.”  Coulson nodded.  “And lunch would be appreciated.”

“So,” Skye slipped up next to Natasha as the group started walking.  “Covert operations?  You like a super-spy or something?”

“Or something.”  Natasha glanced at Skye.  “However, you aren’t cleared high enough to know specifics.  Agent Ward has said all that he’s allowed to say.”

“Assassinations,” Skye nodded.  “No _way!_ ”  She stopped and stared at Natasha.  “You’re _her_!  The one that’s killed all those people in Russia!”

Natasha didn’t stop walking.  “Believe what you want to believe, but you have me mistaken with somebody else.  Clint, I had a thought.  Berlin to Helsinki.”

“Sure, Nat, but where would we be able to get a dozen rubber snakes in Plovdiv?”  Clint tilted his head to one side.  “Unless you were thinking Paris, too?”

“Shanghai,” Natasha said.  She shrugged slightly at Clint’s startled look.  “It worked before, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Clint slowly said.  “Hadn’t thought about that angle.  But if we’re going that route…” he trailed off.  “Ah!  Prague! With the carthorse!”

“Prague.”  Natasha nodded with a small smile.  “I like that one.”

“Um, AC?  Do you know what all that was about?”  Skye hurried to catch up.  “Because that _so_ totally didn’t make sense.”

“It’s not supposed to, Skye, unless you know what they’re talking about.”  Coulson didn’t look around.  “They have codes for almost everything.  In this case, they were discussing cover stories.”  He paused.  “I think.  They might have also been talking about where they were going to get dinner tonight.”

Clint nodded.  “Cover stories.  Sure, if that’s what you want to think.  Or it was complete and total gibberish, designed to confuse and distract.”

May snorted softly.  “It’s gibberish.”

Skye watched as Clint whispered something to May.  When the woman stared at him, Clint grinned.  “It only has to make sense to me and Nat.”

“So wait.”  Skye shook her head, confused.  “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to,” Clint calmly said.  “The only people who have to understand what’s going on are me, Natasha, and whoever assigned us the mission.  And sometimes not even then – plausible deniability is a wonderful thing.  Coulson, what were your plans for next month?”

“Right now?”  Coulson looked thoughtful.  “Nothing outside of the usual.  Why?”

“Nat’s going to need backup, if you’re interested.”  Clint glanced out of the corner of his eye at Natasha.  “And no, Nat, you don’t get to argue this one.”

* * *

 “So.”  Skye leaned forward.  “How _do_ you plan things out?  Because everything I’ve seen so far is kinda…unplanned.  AC and everybody usually just reacts, and the couple times stuff _was_ planned out, it was kinda presented as a done deal.”

Clint and Natasha shared a long look before Clint shrugged and went back to his meal.  Natasha nodded.  “We are given data, a location, and a target or end goal.  Using that, we decide how we will get there and how we will accomplish our mission.  People may give us suggestions or expand upon our ideas, but we really do most of it ourselves.  That is not the usual situation, however.  Usually there is an entire team that will plan out operations.”

“Our skins, our responsibility,” Clint mumbled.  “Better that way, too.”

“What sort of equipment do you bring with you?”  Fitz leaned forward eagerly.  “Because I’ve managed to talk Agent Ward into using-“

“Fitz!”  Ward snapped.  “You didn’t ‘ _talk’_ me into anything!”

“Depends on the mission.”  Clint didn’t look up.  “Like I said, Nat has a _great_ little black dress that she’ll use sometimes, we each have our chosen weapons, and usually a phone or radio.  We’ll usually head to a SHIELD safe house or base first, then move on.  Maybe some sort of identification and local money.  Nothing that could tie us back to SHIELD, though, or really anything personal.”  His jaw tightened.

Natasha reached out and rested her hand on Clint’s shoulder.  “Clint?  Are you-”

“I’m _fine_ , Nat.  Drop it.  We’ll go later.”

“What about getting out?”  Simmons spoke up.  “I mean, if you’re willing to share…that?”

“Yeah.”  Skye ignored the warning looks.  “I know that Coulson got really pissed when Ward and Fitz didn’t have an extraction plan.  So what about you two?”

“There usually aren’t SHIELD assets in place to assist us.”  Natasha tilted her head to one side.  “We also prefer to travel light and focus on what we set out to do.”

“You mean you don’t _have_ extraction plans?”

“No.  We _never_ have extraction plans.”  Clint’s eyes went dead.  “Because we _are_ our own extraction plans…and if we don’t make it out, then oh well.  Hopefully we finished our assignment before they took us out.  We get caught?”  He shrugged with a sideways glance at Coulson.  “May came after me a few times, the hostage rescue team came in another couple times, but that was really it.  Nat and I are on our own out there, and that suits us just fine.”

“But,” Skye took a bite of her salad.  “How can you-“

“Do not ask us that,” Natasha interrupted.  “We have our reasons, and they’re ours alone.”

“But what about your friends and families?”  Skye was suddenly aware that Coulson and Natasha were both focused on Clint.  Clint’s eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths.

Natasha didn’t look around.  “We don’t go on known suicide missions, nobody does, but we also have no other real ties outside of each other and one or two other people.  Isn’t that right, Coulson?”

Coulson winced.  “Not my call, Romanoff.  As I told Barton, repeatedly.”

Natasha sniffed.  “Whatever.”

“Your call?  About what?”  Skye looked around curiously.

“Classified,” was the response from Coulson, Clint and Natasha, with Clint throwing in “And that’s not an invitation to go digging, either.”  He leaned forward.  “If I find out that _anybody_ has been looking into places that – they – shouldn’t be looking?  You’ll find out what covert ops _really_ means.”  Clint shoved himself back from the table and stood up.  “Nat?  We need to get moving.  Sitwell’s been impatient recently, and Hand was looking touchy at the morning briefing.  Not to mention Quartermain…”  He shook his head.  “I think I’ve gotten a few more ideas worked out.”

“Oh?”  Natasha stood up.  “Were you thinking up close or distance?”

“I always say distance, but we might be able to integrate with the locals this time.  _Strange_ community, though, a bit like that group in Pakistan.  I may have to learn to knit again.”  Clint absentmindedly waved.  “Coulson, May, don’t be strangers.  Ward, Skye, nice meeting you two.  Fitz, Simmons, think large-scale biological explosives that can be carried in a lightweight package.”

Coulson faintly smiled as the two wandered off.  “They’re a good pair.  Nice people.”

“You’re calling them _nice_.”  Skye was staring at the door.  “They just _threatened_ me, Coulson!”

“That?”  May sniffed.  “That was nothing.  If anything, you might find a few notes in your bed, and good luck at catching either one of them in the act.  Their files – anybody above Level Seven, actually – are locked down incredibly tightly.  The trick that you used last time?  Wouldn’t work.  And they’re so paranoid I wouldn’t be surprised if they checked access logs on a regular basis.”

“Weekly, sometimes daily.”  Coulson nodded.  “Skye, before you ask, I have worked with them in the past, but we’re also friends.  Somewhat.”  He tilted his head to one side in an awkward nod.  “Barton’s actually been around almost as long as I have.  One of my earliest missions was to go and recruit him.”  He chuckled.  “I think he was waiting for me, because the first words out of his mouth were ‘Fury sent you?  Good.  I want a burger, a beer, and a chance to sleep for a week before I’ll start jumping through your hoops.’  He’d been in Bosnia.”

“But, but,” Skye sputtered.  “Who does he think he is?”

“Skye, I’m telling you as your Supervising Officer, _drop it_.”  Skye looked surprised at Ward’s order.  “It’s for your own good.”

“Um, sir?”  Simmons spoke up hesitantly.  “I _had_ heard a rumor.  You know, about the time that Agent Romanoff found that her file had been accessed by a junior agent.  What happened to him?”

“Their ‘free agent’ card came into play,” Coulson said shortly.  “He’d tried to blackmail the two of them, only to find out that they play for keeps.  And, well, I was the one to find the body the first time I’d seen either one of them get mad.  It…wasn’t pretty.  And ever since then I’ve been passing it along that you do _not_ cross Barton or Romanoff.”

“I heard,” Fitz leaned forward, “that they’d tried using some ancient Roman torture technique.  And cut off his _tongue_.”

“If that’s what you’ve heard, it must be true.”  Coulson nodded and glanced at his watch.  “Enough gossip.  We have things to do.”

May hung back slightly.  “You know that they didn’t kill the guy.”

“But for the cult of Barton and Romanoff?”  Coulson nodded.  “The thought that he’s working as a desk guard in Siberia isn’t nearly as exciting as thinking that they flayed him alive.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye, Skye, Skye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nony doesn't forget her stories, nor that she hasn't finished them. But Nony is fighting with several chronic conditions, one of which makes it very, very hard to do things, even with medication that is supposed to keep depression tied down and ADHD in check, which means that she simply doesn't have the energy or focus to keep up with a lot of things. (Exhibit A: her entire house.)
> 
> Just as a reminder, this is set during season 1 of Agents of SHIELD. Skye is still finding her place with the team, and HYDRA is simply in the history books.

"Barton," Skye whispered to herself. "There has to be a story there. Romanoff didn't seem like she was in charge." She quickly pulled Google up and typed in Agent Barton's name. Her eyes narrowed. "I don't think he's a lawyer…" Refining her search didn't take long and Skye sat back in shock at the tabloid articles that she had found.

"'Family massacred in broad daylight, no witnesses!'" she read off. Another title was just as lurid. "'Unsolved mysteries…he says no, we say YES!'" Biting her lip, Skye shook her head. "SHIELD wouldn't…would they? No. They wouldn't. They…would." She sat back when she found a picture of a blond-haired man being escorted by police – and Agent Coulson. "AC? No way." She leaned forward and stared at the other man. It took a couple minutes, but she finally was able to match the man in the picture with the memory of the man that she'd met at the Hub.

She couldn't find anything more. "Ugh," Skye groaned. "Okay. There has to be something out there. I wonder…" she bent over her laptop and started typing. Humming softly under her breath as she worked, Skye quickly broke into Rising Tide's database. "Okay. Barton…murders…2006." What she found made her shake her head. "Still nothing? Really?" She glanced up when she heard Ward calling her name. "Yeah, I'm coming!" Staring back down at her laptop worriedly, she slowly shut the screen. She had other options.

* * *

"Skye." Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just ask me that. And I'm  _not_  going to tell them that you did ask, because then I'll have to deal with them ganging up on you. So drop it."

"But Agent Coulson!" Skye held out a piece of paper. "I found all this. He's _dangerous_!"

"Covert operators usually are." Coulson didn't look at the paper. "Give the man some privacy, Skye. You don't need to know. Just know that he won't hurt the people that he cares about, and that includes the vast majority of SHIELD."

"I…" Skye took a breath and plunged forward. " _Look_ , Agent Coulson! A family was  _killed_! He was the  _only_  suspect! And  _you're_  in here!"

Coulson's head shot up and he grabbed at the paper. "Where did you find that?"

"Google. Kinda?" Skye hedged. "Few other places?"

"Ah." Coulson relaxed. "You do realize that the picture you're referring to has nothing to do with those headlines? This was in relation to a mission that Agent Barton was on; it was supporting his cover story. Those headlines…" he shook his head. "They don't have anything to do with Agent Barton. Now if you'll excuse me, Skye, I have some things to do." Calmly spinning around, he headed for the stairs to his office.

"Nothing?" Skye's voice had Coulson mentally groaning. "Come  _on_ , AC! You can't just leave me hanging like that! There's something going on, I know it!"

"Skye! I told you to drop it!" Coulson turned around and crumpled the paper in his hand. "There is  _nothing_  for you to find! The only thing that is 'going on' is the fact that we're heading out to find out what is happening in Tibet! Now go help FitzSimmons." He ignored Skye's grumble as he started climbing. He thought about sending a message about Skye to Clint or Natasha, but decided not to. Skye was nosy, but Coulson had been there when Clint's record had been cleared, down to news reports. There wasn't anything  _for_  her to find outside of SHIELD files, and she didn't have the access or the help to access them.

* * *

"Go ask Coulson." Ward's words were interspersed with thumps as he hit the punching bag. "He knows them better than I do."

Skye shrugged and wrapped her arms around her waist. "I did."

"And?"

"And he kinda told me to…drop it?" Skye's voice was hesitant. "But I  _can't_ , Ward."

"Why can't you?" Ward paused and looked over at Skye. "Because if Agent Coulson says to drop it, you should drop it."

"I…I don't know. There's something  _weird_  going on with them!" Skye stalked to one side of the bay and back. "I found some stuff online about Agent Barton and it's kinda making me worried?"

"Look, Skye." Ward reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "There isn't anything to be worried about. They're two of the best that SHIELD has; they aren't about to turn around and go after people inside of SHIELD without good reason. They're friends with Agent Coulson, too, some of the stories out there include all  _three_  of them. So I'd think that they'd extend that consideration to the people that he works with, too."

"A family  _died_ , Ward!" Skye twisted free. "A family named Barton! And only the husband survived! I don't know anything else, but that doesn't seem _right_."

"Agent Barton wouldn't do anything like that." Ward's voice was firm. "Agent Romanoff wouldn't, either."

"But how do you  _know_  that? All you know about them is their reputation!"

"And it's that reputation that tells me that they wouldn't!" Ward spun back to the punching bag. "Look, Skye, please. Just drop it. After everything they've done, they don't deserve to have people go digging. I mean, they were  _crucial_ in the Battle of New York! Agent Romanoff has brought more intelligence out of Eastern Europe than any other three people – combined! Agent Barton is what every sniper  _dreams_  of being! I regret every single person I've ever killed. From what I've heard, he  _doesn't_. He is one of the best assassins that SHIELD has ever seen!"

"Maybe that's because he doesn't have a  _soul_ , Ward!" Skye shot back. "All you're telling me is what the rumors say! How do you  _know_  that they're not dangerous? How do you know that Agent Barton won't suddenly snap one day and take everybody out?" Spinning on her heel, she headed for the stairs. "You don't understand.  _Nobody_  understands. They're all too busy…too busy _worshipping_  at the feet of those two."

* * *

"Hey, Fitz." Skye leaned on the table next to the scientist. "Gotta question for you."

"Yes?" Fitz glanced over. "About what?"

"That rumor that you were talking about a few weeks ago at the Hub. About Agent Barton and how he and Agent Romanoff killed some guy." Skye leaned closer. "And how they cut off his  _tongue_."

"Oh, they really wouldn't do that. At least, I don't think so. News about people like them really doesn't get around much, after all, or at least not to people like me." Fitz looked back down. "All that I know is what everybody in SHIELD knows. Do what you're told to do, leave people alone, and hope that you don't catch the eye of anybody higher ranked than you in a bad way. Or sometimes even a good way."

"Oh." Skye glanced at her hands. "Because I kinda found something online. Coulson took the picture away, but it was him and Agent Barton being escorted into a police station."

"I'm sure they had their reasons." Fitz suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Skye, as a friend, please just drop it. I'm  _quite_  happy with people not really knowing who I am and the idea that two people in covert operations know my name and asked me and Jemma to dream up some ideas makes me nervous. We're just Level Five! They're…not! They're higher!" He waved one hand in agitation. "They're at  _least_  Level Seven, if not higher, and nobody really knows just  _how_  high everything goes here!"

"I…see." Skye slowly exhaled. "Why don't you want them to know about you?"

"Because if  _they_  know who some of us are, what's to stop them from telling more people! And then even more people!" Fitz waved his hands in the air. "I'm  _quite_  happy here!"

Skye opened her mouth. She shut it again. "I don't follow?"

"Fitz, I found it. It was under your bed." Simmons hurried in and dropped a small device on the table. "And why was it there?"

"Oh!" Fitz suddenly nodded. "I had taken it up there with me the other night. I had an idea."

"And you couldn't have simply  _written it down?"_  Simmons looked at Skye. "Hello, Skye."

"Simmons," Skye wasn't quite sure why she was feeling so desperate to know. "If you had questions about someb- something, you'd want to find out more, right?"

"Well, yes," Simmons said. "Although if it's not cleared for me to know, I'd certainly not try very  _hard_. And if I asked about it and I was told to stop, I'd certainly stop. Why?"

"Agent Barton." Fitz had gone back to his computer. "Although why, I don't know."

"I was looking him and Agent Romanoff up. You know, because I was curious. Nothing on  _her_  from Google, but I found a picture of him and Agent Coulson going into a police station surrounded by cops and some article headlines saying that a family had been  _murdered_." Skye leaned around Fitz. "Doesn't that sound like somebody who's dangerous?"

"How do you know that he was the Barton you found in those headlines? Or that Barton is even his real name?" May's voice had Skye jumping. "Skye, you've been ordered to drop it, so drop it." She looked pointedly at Skye. "Wheels up in an hour, if you need anything from groundside before we leave."

* * *

It took Skye nearly a month before she was able to finally get out from the surveillance of the rest of her team. Coulson, May, and Ward had been dragged off to some meeting, leaving the other three at a SHIELD base in Arizona. Skye felt a sudden loss as FitzSimmons saw people that they knew and vanished before realizing that  _this_  was the perfect time for her to go further into the SHIELD database. Finding an open computer terminal in a relatively empty room, Skye slipped in a USB drive and held her breath, hoping that her program would still work. "Alright!" She whispered when she wasn't kicked off and no alarms were triggered. "Okay. Barton, C. and Romanoff, N."

She sat back when the files started appearing. "Whoa. That's a lot." Leaning forward, Skye had a name jump out at her. "Belarus. Wonder what that one was." She moved to click it before noticing the personnel files. "Even  _better_."

" _What_?" Skye glanced over her shoulder to make sure her sudden outburst hadn't been noticed. "That's not possible!" The icon for the file was flashing red and a pop-up box was demanding a password. Shaking her head, she bent over the keyboard. There was a story there, and she wanted – no,  _needed_  – to know. The way that everybody else talked about the two agents and the things that she'd found demanded explanations. "Especially after what AC said," she muttered.

She lost herself in her work after that. Getting frustrated when the protections only  _improved_ , Skye switched over to trying to look at old mission reports, then Agent Romanoff's personal file, then  _anything_  that had their names on it.

"No." Skye shook her head when she saw the time. "That isn't  _possible!_ " She'd been trying to break into the files for hours, and the most she'd gotten were some file names. A second glance at the time had her scrambling to close everything down. She had to get back to the plane and hope that people hadn't noticed her hacking attempts. She couldn't believe that somebody had kept her out –  _nobody_  was able to keep her out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning, for this one and future chapters...references are made to (very) canonical deaths of children and poor coping skills. And in the Ultimates, Clint was married to Laura, they had kids, and they were indeed killed.
> 
> For the non-triggery stuff, it's been a while. But in the past however long, I've been diagnosed with a condition that causes chronic pain, have watched my marriage fall apart and the subsequent divorce which lead to a fast move and a necessary job change. My mind hasn't been on writing. At all. But this story is now finished, has been read by my beta o' awesome, and I'm going to post the rest of it over the next few weeks.

Clint groaned and rolled over, slapping at his alarm clock.  When the beeping didn’t stop, he sat up and stumbled out of bed, trying to figure out where it was coming from.  “Computer,” he muttered.  “That’s it.”  He felt a cold chill run over him when he opened his laptop and saw the alert.  As he sat down, he reached out for his phone.  “Nat.  Somebody’s trying to get into our stuff.  Get over here.”

He lost himself in the computer after that.  The knock on his door startled him, and he glanced between it and his laptop.  He decided that he could spare the time after assessing just _how_ far in the hacker had gotten and in one swift motion shoved his chair back, stood up, and moved over to the door.  Unlocking it and pulling it open Clint didn’t bother waiting to see who was on the other side and hurried back to his desk.

“What are they going after?”  Natasha didn’t waste time as she sat on the floor and opened her own laptop.  “And how far in have they gotten?”

“The search parameters were ‘Barton, C. and Romanoff, N.’ and not very,” Clint rattled off with a longing glance at the calendar.  “Dammit, Nat, I had _plans_ for today.”

“Me too.” Natasha’s voice was grim.  “And you and I both know that our plans overlapped.  Although mine included less tears and more getting a damp shirt.”

“Look, Nat, I’m allowed _one_ day…” Clint trailed off.  “They’re going for the personal stuff.  I wonder who?”

“I don’t see HYDRA, A.I.M., or any of those regular groups trying this again.”  Natasha scowled down at her laptop.  “New agent?”

“Coulson’s hacker.  It has to be.”  Clint’s shoulders slumped.  “Dammit, I had thought he’d’ve…”

“Obviously not.”  Natasha frowned.  “I’m tracing this back to a SHIELD base in Arizona.  Cute but stupid, indeed.”

Clint’s lips tightened.  “Of all days, Nat.  I’m going to _kill_ somebody after this.”  His gaze flickered to a picture frame.  “I’m sorry, Laura.  I know, babe, I have to stay calm.  But…” he paused.  “She’s going after you.  That’s not allowed.”

“Clint,” Natasha said quietly about 45 minutes later.  The sounds from the two keyboards almost overrode her voice.  “I think we’re good for now.”

“ _No_.”  Clint shook his head.  “She’s giving up on our personal files, sure, but now she’s going after mission files.  I would _love_ to know what’s going through her mind right now.  Damned _idiot_.”

“And find out why Coulson is letting her have this much freedom?”  Natasha raised one eyebrow.  “Calm down.  What should we do with her?”

“I’d love to drag her off to containment until the sun rises in the west,” Clint spat out.  “But instead we’re just going to have to put the fear of God into her.”

“And the rest of them.”

Clint made himself focus only on his computer.  It kept the anger and the knowledge of just what day it was at bay.  A sudden pressure and warmth on his elbow had him looking up.

“Eat something,” Natasha said.  “It’s been a couple hours now, I don’t think she’ll get in.  And I actually think she may have given up.”

“But, Nat,” Clint stared at the picture.  “I…I can’t.”

“You don’t eat willingly, I’ll tie you down and force-feed you.”  Natasha was blunt.  “So it’s late afternoon and you slept the morning away, but there’s still time for you to get very, very drunk.”

“I…fine.”  Clint sighed with a long look at his computer.  “I’m going to _kill_ her.”  His breath caught in his throat and he tried to cover it up by taking a long drink of the soup Natasha had prepared.  “It’s just…I have to…I don’t know what to think.”

“Killing her, as attractive as it may sound, isn’t an option.”  Natasha pointed at the bedroom.  “She’s locked out again, so we can continue on with our original plans for the day.  Do we tell Fury?”

“No.”  Clint stood up and grabbed the picture.  Gently rubbing the glass with his thumb as he followed Natasha, he repeated, “No.  But scaring her, definitely.  And the-“

“The others, too.”  Natasha gently directed Clint over to his bed.  “Clint, we’ll figure it out.  But for now,” She sat down and with a firm tug pulled him down as well.  “For now, think of your family.  What would Laura have said to do with her?”

“Bed.  No dinner.”  Clint’s breath caught in his throat.  “But…Callum was only _eight_ , Nat.  Taking away his Gameboy was enough punishment for him.  She’s 24.”

“I’d be happy with restricting her computer access.”  Natasha shifted and leaned her head on Clint’s shoulder.  She stared down at the family picture that he was carefully holding in his lap.  “I’ll never get tired of that picture, you know.”  She smiled fondly, remembering the day that she’d taken it.  Clint was buried beneath his children with Laura holding his feet down.  Everybody was laughing, and a large dog was trying to lick Clint’s face.  “It always makes me happy.”

“Me too,” Clint choked out before Natasha had to quickly grab at the picture frame.  Dropping it on the bed behind them, she pulled Clint towards her.  “Dammit, Nat.  _Dammit_.”

Natasha didn’t try to hold back her own tears.  “ _Don’t_ , Clint.  Promise me that you’ll stay.  For me.”

“It’s _hard_ , Nat,” Clint sobbed out.  “Seven, seven damn years.  It would have been Nicole’s tenth birthday.  Callum would be going for his learner’s permit.  _Why?_ ”

Natasha didn’t know how to answer.  She just held Clint tightly.

* * *

Natasha sighed heavily and glanced over her shoulder.  Clint was asleep, an empty bottle of whiskey carelessly shoved under the bed.  She sniffed as she turned back around and focused on her computer.  “Just don’t leave me, Clint,” she whispered.  She shook her head when she saw the evaluations on Coulson’s team.  With the exception of Skye, everybody was clean, so what Clint had been saying before he finally passed out wasn’t a logical response.

Carefully closing the laptop, she stood up and moved back to the bed.  Clint hadn’t stopped crying, even after he fell asleep, and Natasha didn’t try to hide her own tears this time.  She slipped into bed behind him and wrapped her arm over his waist as she leaned her forehead against the back of his neck.  “Don’t leave me alone, please Clint,” she breathed.  “Please.”

“ _Hurts_ , Nat,” Clint moaned.  “Evr’y…evr’y day.”  Since he’d been saying that for the past two hours, Natasha didn’t reply.  “More and more and more…” he trailed off with a whimper.  “ _Laura_.  Why’d you leave me?  Why dn’t you go?  Nic…Nicole’d’ve gone with you.  Girl’s’d safe.  My girls…my boys.  Daddy loves you all.”

It was a familiar litany to Natasha.  Every year Clint would let himself release all the pent-up grief and anger, and every year he’d end up sobbing in his bed.  He never let himself be overtly comforted; Natasha had learned that after the second anniversary.  The actual words might change, but the theme always remained the same.  “Sleep, Clint.  I’ve got your back.”

“Don’t want wake up.”  One of Clint’s hands found Natasha’s arm and squeezed.  “Sleep forever.”

Natasha tightened her own grip and offered what little comfort Clint would accept in his drunken state.  Once his mumbles had faded down, she shifted slightly and pulled out her cell phone.  “The usual,” she texted to Fury.  “Back tomorrow.  Noon.”

“ _Problems_?”  Natasha sighed at how _predictable_ Fury was.

She hit a button on her phone.  “One problem, sir.  Nothing that we won’t be able to handle, and it was just bad timing.”

_“Romanoff…if I have to lose two of my best…”_ Fury sounded tired.  A glance at the clock told Natasha why.

“If you do, it will only be for a few days, and I will tell you,” Natasha promised quietly.  “Sir, get some rest, please.”

_“Don’t mother me, Romanoff.  I can sleep when I’m dead.  Out.”_

Natasha rolled her eyes and shoved her phone under the pillow.  “Ah, there it is,” she murmured.  “Clint, have some water.”  She narrowed her eyes at the label on the bottle.  “Actually, don’t.  You don’t want rum.”

“Laura…” Clint slurred.  “’M sorry.  Love you forever, babe.”

* * *

 “Kill me now.”  The groan from the bed had Natasha looking up with a small smile.  “How?”

“Sorry, Barton,” Natasha didn’t bother to hide her amusement.  Or keep her voice down, and she laughed when Clint winced.  “Under your bed.”

Clint dropped one hand and felt around.  “Oh,” he said, staring at the bottle.  “At least I grabbed something halfway decent.  Thanks.”  He sat up and accepted the painkillers and Gatorade that Natasha held out.  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye when she sat down on the bed next to him.  “Was I?”

“No more than usual.”  Natasha slumped over.  “Bit more on apologizing, bit less on tears.  You didn’t leave your bed.”

“Okay.”  Clint relaxed slightly.  “You know I don’t-“

“ _Don’t_ lie to me, Clint,” Natasha said harshly.  She felt a visceral pleasure when he flinched.  “You _know_ that I know that if it came down to it, you’d take the bullet.  With pleasure, because you’re hurting that much.  Will you go off and kill yourself?  I always worry about that.”  Natasha mentally sighed.  Same story, different chapter…”Which is why you’re not alone as much as you want to be.”

Clint winced.  “Nat…I…” he sighed.  “It’s getting worse, Nat.  I don’t want to get out of bed some days.”

“Then talk to somebody.  Get some meds.  Just don’t _give up_.”  Natasha shook her head and stood up.  “Go shower, then we have to talk about other things.”  She didn’t have the energy to go through their usual morning-after routine.  “I’ll go get breakfast started.”

“Phil’s hacker.  Right.”  Clint levered himself to standing.  “And I do talk to somebody, Nat, I talk to you and sometimes Nick.  Not so much Phil these days.  If you’re talking about a shrink?  They don’t understand, they just tell me that ‘it will get better, give it time.  Maybe think about going to a grief group.’  It’s been seven years Nat, and it _hasn’t_ gotten better.  The grief groups I’ve found are all about people losing parents, friends.  Usually to suicide.  If you can find me somebody that will actually _listen_ , as well as you do, or a group that won’t look at me funny when I _say_ that my entire family was _massacred_ in cold blood, then I’ll try again.  I ran out of bacon last week.”

“Okay,” Natasha sighed.  “I’ll see what else you have.”

Clint headed for the bathroom.  “Nat?  Thanks.”

When Clint appeared in his kitchen Natasha nodded.  He looked better.  “Okay.  The hacker.  What about her?”

“I don’t know,” Clint leaned against the counter and stole a pancake.  “She was trying to get into some pretty restricted things.”

Natasha pointed at her laptop.  “The rest of Coulson’s team is clean; I have their latest evaluations pulled up.  Except for May’s and Coulson’s, but we know them.  I don’t think Hill was having a very good day when she did Ward’s.  They’re good people, Clint.”

“I know; Coulson wouldn’t have tapped them otherwise.”  Clint didn’t move.  “Nat…I’m not about to kill myself.  Honest.  I have bad days, yeah, but I also have good days.  It’s just hard to get moving most mornings, but you see me.  I do what needs to be done.”

“Clint,” Natasha said quietly as she turned off the stove, “I don’t care.  Maybe next year I’ll _record_ you and then you’ll see.  You’re hurting, you’re covering it up, and I’m afraid that I’m going to lose you.”

“Laura would kick my ass if I did?”  Clint smiled hesitantly.  “Even from beyond the grave?  But enough about that, we need to figure out what we’re going to do with Coulson’s group.”

“All of them?”  Natasha nodded.  “Set the table.  And I just want her to learn restraint, respect, and some common sense.  We can sneak onto the plane easily enough, and next month we’ll have the time to do so.  The rest of them just need to realize-“

“That they need to keep a better eye on her,” Clint finished.  “Thanks for breakfast, Nat.  And the painkillers.”

“Always.”  Natasha reached out and hit a few keys on her laptop.  “So, we can hook up with them…” she trailed off.

“Nat?”  Clint reached out and turned the laptop around.  “Oh.”  He took a deep breath.  “I’ll deal.  I’ll go to the cemetery after.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, an update! Same trigger warnings as in previous chapters, and Clint and Natasha aren't exactly nice people at a few moments here.

“Like it?”  The voice was cold, and Skye spun around with a gasp.  She’d been standing there holding the blanket for what felt like hours as she stared at the knife resting innocently in her bed.  A hand snaked around and picked it up.  “It’s probably my favorite.  Move it, we’re borrowing Coulson’s office.”

 “But-“ Skye started.  She was interrupted by a delicate finger resting on her lips.

 “Shhh,” Natasha whispered.  “And obey Agent Barton, Skye, if you value your place here and do not wish to see the inside of the Triskelion’s containment cells.  I cannot say that you’ll find it boring; you won’t be thinking much of anything if we have to take you there.  Stupid indeed, Clint.  You were right.”

 “Of course I was, Tasha.”  Skye blinked at the obvious affection in their voices even as the two assassins stared at her with eyes that made her think of sharks.  “I have to have a few good ideas now and then.  Agen- well, you’re not an agent.  _Technically_ a consultant, but you’re a bit more than that.  I _could_ call you a dumb bitch, but I’ve been taught to be polite.  Skye,” his voice went cold again.  “I don’t see you moving.”

 When the three emerged into the common area, Ward stood up hurriedly.  “Agents Barton and Romanoff? When?  How?”

 Clint just coldly looked at Ward.  “Monitor your trainee, Agent.  Keep walking, Skye.  Ward, we’ll talk with you later.”  He didn’t acknowledge Ward’s soft “yes, sir” as he continued following Skye to Coulson’s office.

 “Barton?  Romanoff?”  Coulson glanced up when his door opened and he saw who was entering.  Clint pushed Skye down into a chair and stood behind her.  “What’s going on?  When did you two get here?”  He started to feel worried at the looks he was being given; Skye looked nervous, and he could see the anger in Clint’s eyes.

 “We’re borrowing your office, Agent Coulson, for a brief lesson in what obeying orders and privacy really means,” Natasha said smoothly.  “As for when we got here…” she tilted her head to one side.  “Before you took off, obviously.”

 “Or maybe after.”  Clint shrugged.  “Maybe we’ll tell you later.  However, somebody has now shown just _how_ stupid she really is in her abilities to make decisions about where to dig.  Are you sure about her, Coulson?”  He rested his hands on Skye’s shoulders and leaned forward as Natasha attached zip ties to the legs of the chair.  “We had things to do that didn’t involve fighting her hacking attempts, and since previous attempts at disciplining her and teaching her restraint have obviously not worked, it was up to us to come and give her-“

 “I get it.”  Coulson sighed.  “Skye, just tell me one thing.  Why?”  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Natasha move to the door.  “You know how the system works, and didn’t you think about basic _privacy_ like I told you?”

 “The system _doesn’t_ work, Coulson!”  Skye tried to shrug off Clint’s hands.  “And – ow!  That hurts!”  She shifted in the chair in an attempt to ease his hold.

 “Oh, it does?  Think about this, _Consultant_ Skye.”  Clint didn’t loosen his grip.  “The system has worked for decades.  Why is it up to _you_ , somebody who is _nobody_ in the SHIELD system, to decide that it doesn’t?  There may be parts that should be changed, but going around in old mission files that are marked ‘eyes-only for’ is not one of them.  Nor is digging around in _personal_ files!”

 “Clint, we have company,” Natasha announced.  “Please impress on her the idea that maybe we keep things locked down for a reason?  I’ll deal with the others.”  The door quietly hissed behind her.

 “I’m not nobody!”  Skye exclaimed as she continued to try to twist free.  “I just want to know the truth!  And stop it!”

 “No.”  Clint quickly finished tying her hands to the legs of the chair before leaning against the edge of Coulson’s desk and starting to idly play with his knife.  “Little girl, I have a suggestion for you.”  Bending over, Clint stared directly into Skye’s face.  “Grow.  The fuck.  Up.  The world is _far_ bigger than your little brain can possibly comprehend, even with the fact that you’re so high up in Rising Tide.  Still.  Coulson, Nat and I backtracked some of her other activities.  She’s not allowed near _any_ computers without supervision.  And _we’ve_ put those restrictions on her, which means that you’ll have to get somebody else to override us.  Like Director Fury or Hill.  When you land, you’re getting biometric passwords installed on everything.  She will _not_ be getting one.  Hell, she’s not even allowed near the damn _coffeemaker_ without supervision,” he snarled.

 “Barton,” Coulson said, the trickle of concern growing into fear for his team.  “What exactly did she do?”

 “You don’t want my side of it?  Coulson!”

 “Skye, _shut up_.”  At the two voices, Skye stared furiously around.

 Clint straightened up.  “Budapest.  Belarus.  Red Room.  What I did before SHIELD.  Natasha’s history.  Little rude, that.  You want fun stories, go to the library.”

 Coulson closed his eyes and mentally prayed for some patience.  “Skye, you _didn’t_.”

 “Oh, she did.”  Clint started pacing the room.  “She tried, Coulson, and frankly, only the facts that between Natasha and I we’re _better_ than she is and that you’ve mentioned her value to _your_ team is what kept me and Natasha from coming in, grabbing her, and taking her to containment with nobody the wiser.”  He spun around and slammed his hands on Coulson’s desk.  “And you!  You _let_ her!  You knew about her abilities, and kept on passing it off!”

 “Barton!”  Coulson stood up and leaned forward.  “What else did you want me to do?  I restricted her as much as I was able!”

 “You’re _Level Eight_ , Coulson.  You know that you could keep her from doing _anything_ with a computer except for watching _Teletubbies_ if you _really_ wanted to.  She’s not a project that needs to be saved, Coulson, she’s a known subversive.  No reformation is possible with some of them; people have _tried_ before.”  Clint shoved himself upright and resumed pacing.  “And you _know_ what happened!  Failure!  They’re now sitting in containment, and will be until the end of the damned world!”

 Coulson sank back into his chair with a sigh.  “I _know_.  And I’m _sorry_ , Barton.  Clint.  I really _didn’t_ realize that she’d gone digging, although I should have expected something.  But…you know what came up.  We had to split up; Ward, May and I had to go do things, and we left the other three behind at a base in Arizona.  I thought that if she was going to hack into _anything_ , it would have been what _we_ were doing.  Not your and Romanoff’s files.”

 “Um, I didn’t get in, so no harm, no foul?”  Skye asked hesitantly.

 “No harm, _little girl_ , plenty of _foul_.  You were told to stay away from things that don’t concern you,” Clint spun around and hissed.  “ _My_ personal life, _Natasha’s_ personal life, don’t concern anybody but us.  What we do doesn’t concern anybody but us and people who were directly involved.  You want to play _games_ with me?  Fine.  We’ll play games.  I like this one – Nat and I call it ‘can Clint hit a person between their fingers while blindfolded?’”

 “Barton!”  Coulson snapped.  “Outside.  I want to talk with you and Romanoff.  Alone.”  He shot a look at Skye.  “She won’t go anywhere.”  He thought for a minute.  “Cockpit.  Nobody will bother us there.”

 “This is hardly alone, Coulson,” May just glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

 “It’s May, Nat, she’ll be fine.”  Clint spun around and stared at Coulson.  “Tell me why, Phil.  Why should we let her be?”

 “Because we’re tracking down her history.  She _has_ connections to SHIELD that Melinda and I are trying to figure out.  A SHIELD agent dropped her off on a doorstep and then was killed.  She has a heavily redacted SHIELD file.”

 “Still.  That doesn’t mean that she should just be allowed to do whatever she feels like doing.”  Natasha folded her arms across her chest.  “You realize that, had she actually made it in, you wouldn’t have had a choice?  I would have gone to the Director.”

 “She didn’t,” May said as she turned back around.

 “She tried, which is just as bad as actually getting in.”  Clint took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  “And it wasn’t just mission files.  She was going after things that are kept stored away, information on people in containment, things like that.  Digging, but we couldn’t tell for what.  Except that she was also trying to get into our personal files.”  He shook his head.  “We should have put that virus on like you wanted, Nat.”

 “If she was doing it from the plane, though, it would have probably infected the plane’s systems, so I’m thinking that it was a good thing we didn’t.”  Natasha stared at Coulson.  “Well?  What are you going to offer us – what is _she_ going to offer us – that will keep us quiet?”

 “What do you want?”  Coulson sagged against the door.  “And did you two _really_ say that you were going to get biometric passwords put on everything?”

 “We should.”  Clint scowled.  “But we don’t have that sort of power, and we really do like most of this group that you’ve put together after we did some _legal_ digging of our own.  You knew what you were doing when you pulled this group together, Coulson.  With the exception of your little pet project.”

 “Give her computer restrictions again.  We still have the bracelet,” May threw back over her shoulder.  “And Ward, Phil or I will keep an eye on her.”

 “Not Ward,” Natasha said.  “He’s her SO.  We’re holding him implicit.”

 “To a point.”  Clint nodded.  “Melinda, you and Phil.  And _don’t_ make us have to come out to talk to you lot again.  A nice invitation, sure, but anything gets pulled again?  You’ll have to do a hell of a lot of fast talking to calm us down.”

 “And we will take it higher,” Natasha added.  “Right now, the only people who know what happened are on this plane.”

* * *

“Okay.”  Clint stiffly sat on the arm of the chair.  Natasha sat on the other, and Skye was held between the two of them.  “Teaching moments, yay!”  His grip tightened as Skye squirmed.  “Don’t.  Move.”  


 “Um, Agent Barton?”  Fitz hesitantly raised his hand.  “What is-“

 “Fitz, they’ll explain everything.  Don’t make them mad,” May quietly said as she paced around the group.  “We only _just_ got them calmed down.”

 “That’s calm?”  Fitz squeaked as he pointed at Clint.  “He’s probably leaving bruises!”

 “Probably,” Clint agreed.  “It could be worse.  But your little hacker, here, decided that the rules didn’t apply to her and tried to go digging where she shouldn’t have.  Which is why the two of us are now here, and you are _stuck_ with us until you land someplace where we can head off on our own.”  He shrugged.  “Should only be a day or two.  And I know that we’re going to be best buds!”  He coldly smiled and lightly shook Skye’s shoulder.  “Right?  Right!”

 “Agent Ward.”  Natasha took over.  “She disobeyed direct orders from you, Coulson, and May.  Teach her that there are consequences to disobeying orders – we don’t _care_ what the results may have been in the past.  Orders are orders for a reason.  If she wants to question them, then there is a time and a place for that; simply disobeying them isn’t the right time or place for somebody with her status.  Agents Simmons and Fitz.  She is not allowed in your lab without Agents Coulson or May present.  She is not allowed anywhere on her own except for her quarters and the common areas.  If she wants to use a computer, it is to be cleared with Agents Coulson or May first.”

 Ward cleared his throat.  “What did she try to access?”

 “Us,” Clint said.  “Which reminds me, Agent Ward, you’re her SO.  You should know her well enough by now to know that she’s one of those types that thinks the rules really don’t apply to them.  That secrets need to be anything but secret.  Well, let me just point something out…last time one of my secrets got out?  My family _died_.  They knew _nothing_.”  He leaned down and hissed in Skye’s ear, “I bet you didn’t think of that.  Rising Tide is like all the others.  It doesn’t _care_ who it hurts, it just wants to tell the world everything.”  Standing up, he spun on his heel and stalked for the stairs.  “Nat.”

 “Those are your orders.”  Natasha stared around the room before following her partner to Coulson’s office.  Skye didn’t move, outside of bursting into tears.

 “Agent Coulson!  Sir!”  Simmons stood up and rushed over to Skye.  “You can’t let them do that!”

 “They’re well within their rights to do that.  And more.”  Coulson sighed.  “They wanted to take her to the Triskelion or the Fridge.  They wanted to _hurt_ her.”

 “But, sir!”  Simmons had her arms wrapped around the younger woman.  “She didn’t _get_ anything!”

 “She disobeyed orders.  She broke their trust, Simmons,” May said, stopping behind Skye’s chair.  “It doesn’t matter that she didn’t get in; what matters is that she _tried_.  And now?  Nothing that she can do will earn that trust back.  Coulson, did you know?”

 Coulson’s jaw was tight.  “They had just celebrated their tenth anniversary.  His wife – amazing woman.”  He stalked to the stairs.  “Don’t try to change their minds while they’re here.  It won’t happen.  And stay down here.  We need some privacy.  May.”

 “Sir.”  May nodded.

 Coulson heard the increase in noise behind him as he reluctantly climbed the stairs to his office.  Opening the door, he shook his head at the sight.

 “Why, Nat?”  Clint was whispering.  “Every damn time.”

 “Shhhh.”  Natasha glanced at the door and thinned her lips.  “I know, Clint.”  She gave Coulson a firm look.  “Today was Nicole’s birthday.”

 Coulson felt like a lead weight dropped into his stomach.  He’d forgotten.  “Clint,” he tentatively said.

 “What?”  Clint lifted his head off Natasha’s shoulder and stared at the door.  “We’re busy.”

 “I’m just wondering what you want me to tell the rest of them.”

 Clint laughed bitterly.  “You want to tell them that instead of spending the anniversary of my _wife’s_ , my _children’s_ deaths thinking about them and getting rightfully drunk I instead spent it fighting off _your_ little project’s attempts to dig?  That on what should have been my daughter’s tenth birthday, I spent it sneaking onto _your_ plane and laying down the law – something that _you_ should have done?  Sure, go ahead.  Let the whole damn world know.”

 “Nothing, Phil.  You will tell them nothing more.”  Natasha’s voice was cold.  “They will apologize to the two of us.  Individually.  And when you are finished with this mission, you will return the two of us to New York, where you will give us a ride to the cemetery.  They know that he lost his family, so let them see that.”  She squeezed Clint tighter.  “Anything else that we tell them will be because we want to, not because we have to.”

 “I’m sorry,” Coulson whispered as he moved to sit down next to the other two.  “You’re right, I should have been keeping a closer eye on her.”

* * *

“Agent Coulson?  Sir?  Where are we going?”  Simmons glanced nervously over her shoulder at the rear of the SUV.

 “Last part of your lesson,” Natasha coolly said.  Clint didn’t turn his head away from his partner, and Simmons shivered slightly to see the intensity of his gaze.  “Or, rather, Skye’s lesson.”

 “I _get_ it,” Skye snapped.  “I was wrong, I was bad.  But keeping me from watching _TV?_ ”

 “You had movies.  Now shut up.”  Clint finally spoke up.  “Phil, second right coming in from this entrance.”

“Cemetery?”  Fitz peered out the window.  “Um, Agent Coulson, I don’t think that I should-“

 “Quiet, Fitz.  This is something that they decided you all need to see.”

 Even before the SUV had stopped Natasha had opened the back and was walking next to Clint across the grass.  The others slowly followed.

 “Hey, babe,” Clint quietly said, kneeling down in front of a tombstone.  “You missed Nicole’s birthday again.  I,” his breath hitched.  “I’d always dreamed of seeing the kids hit ten.  You know why.  Missed your birthday, too.  Got you this.”  He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small box.  “Just…you know.  Saw it on a mission, thought you’d like it.  Sorry I missed everything else – something came up and I had to deal with it.”  He gently set it down on the ground, fingers lingering over it.  “As usual.  But,” he gasped out, “I’m still living.”

 “Who-“

 “Skye, be quiet,” May muttered.  “Think about the consequences of wanting to know everything.”

 Clint had moved over to a different gravestone.  “Hey, baby girl.  Sorry that daddy missed your birthday.  Ten years old…way to go.”  He set a carefully wrapped box down.  “Your brothers both got one of these when they turned ten, so you get one, too.

 “I remember,” he paused and swallowed heavily.  “I remember Callum’s birthday when you were upset that he wouldn’t let you open any of his presents.  Your Aunt Nat had her hands full that day, yeah?”

 A whisper of sound announced the arrival of somebody new.  “He had gone out to the store.  Who knows what would have happened if he had been the one who had stayed home – he might have died, he might have saved them all.  But he found them when he got home.  After that?”  Nick Fury shrugged.  “There’s a reason why he’s one of my best.  Even after seven years, there’s a part of him that never wants to come home again.”  He fell silent and watched as Clint whispered to the graves.  “Frankly, I can’t blame him.  Coulson, they were with you the past few days?”

 “Yes, Director.  They didn’t say anything to us; just kept to themselves.”

 “His youngest was three when she died, you know.  The oldest was eight and already taking after Clint.”  Natasha’s tone was casual.  “Skye, now maybe you can understand just why there are some things that should be kept secret?”

 “Nick.”  Clint had moved back to the group without anybody noticing.  “Thanks for coming.  You know that they appreciate it.”  He swallowed heavily.  “ _I_ appreciate it.  I know you’re busy.”

 “It would have been my goddaughter’s birthday.  Of course I’d show up.”  Fury glanced around warningly before holding out some flowers.  “For all of them.”

 “Thanks.”  Clint rubbed at his face.  “You didn’t need to.”  He glanced around.  “This is why, when something needs to stay quiet, it stays quiet.  So you don’t get _innocents_ killed.  Three-year-olds, who just want Daddy to read her a story before he goes away again.  Callum always told me that I was the best dad out there, because unlike the _other_ dads he knew, I was his own, personal, superhero.  Lewis took after Laura.  Real sensitive, hated it when people were upset.  Laura and I always said that he’d grow up to be a doctor – his favorite thing was to bandage up his action figures.  And his baby sister.  Laura…” he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 

 “Laura was the best thing to ever happen to me.  She was my rock, she was the one that kept the family going.  Every damn day I wake up wishing that _she’d_ been the one to have gone to the store.  And to bring up an old conversation, Simmons, _that_ is why I don’t go in with extraction plans.  Because I don’t _want_ to.”  He pointed to the graves.  “There’s a space there with my name on it and four people waiting for me.”  He glanced at Natasha.  “And space for Nat, if she ever wants it.”

 Everybody watched as he took the flowers from Fury and turned back to the graves.  Carefully dividing them up, he made sure that everything looked just right and started whispering again.

 With a glance at each other, Natasha and Fury moved forward in unison.  “Clint,” Natasha murmured, “Let’s go.  We’ll come back again, okay?”

 “Callum’s birthday.  Yeah.”  Clint sagged against Natasha.  “Love you, babies.  Be good for your mom.  Laura, babe, maybe I’ll see you soon.  Hopefully.”  With a low moan, he looked right through everybody there.  “Let’s…let’s go, Nat.  We have to get to Belize.”

 Coulson didn’t watch Clint being led off as he turned to stare at Skye.  Skye squirmed under his frank gaze.  “No more, Skye.  If I see any unauthorized access of anything, I’m washing my hands of you.  Understand?” 

 Not waiting for an answer, he moved forward and crouched in front of the graves.  “I’m sorry, Laura.  I know that I’d promised that I would keep anything like this from happening again…but you know how people can be.  I just wish that you’d slammed that into your husband’s head when you had the chance.” 

 He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, setting it on the ground with a small smile.  “Natasha’s taking care of him for you, though.  Nick and I do, also, when we see him.  He’s had a few bad days recently, but don’t worry.  He’s not going to eat his gun…he’s being reckless, but you knew that.  At your wedding you told me that was one of the things that you liked, his carefree attitude and recklessness, remember?” 

 Standing up, he gently ran his hand over the four gravestones with a small smile.  “Be good, kids.  Your dad’s expecting it of you.”

 “Poor Agent Barton,” Simmons sniffed.  “To have lost his entire family like that?”

“Terrible,” Fitz murmured.  “Just…terrible.  You wouldn’t think…he looked so _broken._ ”  He reached out and grabbed Simmons’ hand.  “Sir, is there anything-“

 “No,” May interrupted.  “There isn’t.  Skye, do you think you understand what they were trying to tell you now?”

 Skye carefully moved forward.  Crouching down, she slowly read what was written on one of the gravestones.  “Who did this?”

 “They’re dead now.  Clint and Natasha went after them.”  Coulson stood behind her.  “But you want to know about your past…right here are three children that never had a _future_ , thanks to somebody thinking that they knew better than everybody else, that some things didn’t need to stay secret.  A wife and mother that did her best, but her best wasn’t good enough, and she couldn’t get to the gun safe in time.  Agent Barton blames himself.”

 “He wasn’t even home!”  Skye stood up and spun around.  “How could-“

 “Logic, Skye, has nothing to do with emotions.”  Coulson’s face was blank.  “When we get back to the plane, Ward will give you information on survivor’s guilt and PTSD if you really want to know.  If you have any questions, you will come to _me_.  Understand?”  He turned around and started to head back to the SUV without waiting for an answer.

“Let’s go,” May said.  “We have things to do.”


End file.
